Moments on Stage
by ScribeoftheVirus
Summary: Emma Swan is the stage manager for the annual production of The Nutcracker with the New York Ballet Company, lead by the talented Regina Mills and her ruthless mother, Madam Cora Mills. Needless to say, their ideas and methods don't mesh well…


Emma Swan rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. For what must have been the hundredth time that day, someone was _yet again_ making excuses for why their job was not done. _Patience,_ she tried repeating over and over in her head. It would all be alright, they still had two and a half weeks to sort it all out. Everything would be fine.

If only she could actually make herself believe that.

"Look - if you guys can't figure out how to cue the lights to the song, then I will find people who can," she snapped at the lighting crew in front of her. "You've had a week and a half to get this done, and I'm sick of dealing with your crap."

There were only five people in total that were officially in charge of lighting – easy to replace in New York City. She could march down into any University in town, put up a flyer, and have hundreds of willing volunteers that could probably do a better job for free then the idiots who stood before her within the hour. But no, unless she found something really worth firing them over, she was stuck with them, and one of them knew that all too well.

"Relax, love, it'll be fine," smirked the handsome man who was in charge of the others. She scowled at the leer spreading across his face along with his casual dismiss of her authority.

"I swear to god Killian, if I don't have a cue list in my hand by tomorrow morning, you'll never work in another theater again," she said, satisfied when the man put up his hands in surrender and turned back to the switchboard. She knew she hadn't really gotten through to him judging by the still present smirk on his face, but it was better than nothing.

As she made her way back down to the main stage, she heard that mantra repeating in her head again. _Patience. Patience._ It was just three months ago that she took up the mantle of Stage Manager for the New York Ballet Company's annual performance of The Nutcracker, and as thrilling as she thought it to be, she often had to remind herself that all this trouble would be worth something. Being a part of something like this was a huge break for her, after all, and she couldn't have gotten a better deal.

It was her first big break, and doing well on something like this could propel her in exactly the direction she wanted to go. Ballet today, play tomorrow, Broadway next week. She was so close, she could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, the current taste in her mouth was drowning everything else out.

"Easy there, killer."

Emma turned and found herself staring at her friend, Ruby, who had fallen into step beside her. As they walked through the aisles towards the crowded stage, packed with rehearsing dancers, Emma struggled to not take her frustrations out on her friend.

"Jesus Christ, Ruby, if I had known what kind of bull shit I would be dealing with, I never would have taken this job," she muttered, her eyes darting between the dancers and the set designers working in the background.

"I find that a little hard to believe," Ruby replied with a sly smile.

"No, I mean it. This is ridic – Ladies! We do not hang from those ropes!" Over by the pulley system for the flies, a group of teenage girls who had been carelessly hanging off of them scattered and fled backstage. "Forget Stage Manager, I'm a goddamned babysitter."

"Maybe, but if it makes you feel any better, you're a damn good one."

Emma shook her head at the thought. Despite the utmost respect she had for her employers, their decision to include a few local junior troops in this year's production – while inspired and charitable – was making her life a living hell. Half the cast were under the age of fifteen, and while most of them understood that what they were a part of was a big deal, some of them were at their happiest causing the largest amount of trouble they possibly could.

"They're only scared of me today because Madam Mills is coming in and I put the fear of God into their little hearts when I described her yesterday," Emma explained, her thoughts coming to the Company's foremost instructor – a terrifying woman who demanded perfection from everyone she met. "If it were any other day, they would have laughed and gone right back to their game as soon as my back was turned."

"They're kids," Ruby shrugged as they climbed into the pit where chairs were still being arranged for the orchestra which was set to arrive later in the afternoon.

"No, they're young professionals," Emma replied, dodging chairs. "If I could dance like them when I was their age, I would have killed to be here. An opportunity like this opens hundreds of doors, and here they are messing around like it doesn't matter."

"You know, I'm starting to think that you never actually _were_ their age."

Emma stopped dead in her tracks and turned to the other woman. "Are you implying that I'm not fun?" she asked, before skipping the stairs altogether and climbing on stage. "I can be fun. I used to be fun, before I started working with this company."

"What, you don't find living under the Madam's thumb positively titillating?" Ruby laughed.

"Only on days where I'm feeling particularly masochistic," Emma muttered.

"Mommy!"

Emma's head whipped around to see a little boy with messy brown hair running towards her from offstage. She knelt down and opened up her arms, allowing him to jump right into them before spinning him around until he squealed in delight.

"Hey Henry! How was your last big class?" she asked, watching the other little kids taking part in the show file out of the same room her son had just been in, and head down to their own parents who waited in the audience.

"We're gonna be mice!" Henry replied, the amusement and excitement ringing clear in his voice. She grinned at the five-year-old's enthusiasm.

"Mice?! What am I going to do with a mouse as a son?" he giggled at the suggestion and shook his head as if he couldn't believe his mother could be so silly. "See, he thinks I'm fun," she said to Ruby who was watching them fondly.

"He doesn't count. He'd think you were fun if you picked a booger from your nose."

"Eww!" Henry said with a scrunched up nose and a smile.

Emma looked back at him with a smile of her own. "What do you mean, 'eww?' You pick your nose all the time!"

"Miss Regina taught us today," Henry said, changing the subject to something more interesting. Or at least, it was interesting for him.

 _Miss_ Regina, or Regina Mills was Madam Mills' perfect daughter who not only was the designated instructor for their young guests, but also the lead role in the ballet itself. She, very much like her mother had a reputation for being cold and distant and singularly focused on professionalism and perfection. _Unlike_ her mother, she seemed to have a soft spot for children – particularly Henry, to Emma's great annoyance – which made her slightly more likable then the elder Mills. Only slightly.

But no matter how the petite brunette saw Emma's son, it had been made perfectly clear that she did not share the same favor towards Emma herself. She didn't know what she did to make the young Mills hate her, but after three months of dealing with her, she honestly couldn't care less. If Regina wanted to hate her for no apparent reason, Emma had no problem hating Regina right back.

"Oh really?" Emma asked. "Was it a brief summary on how to suck the joy from a room?"

"Charming as ever, Miss Swan," came a velvet voice from behind her. Regina.

"Only the best for you, Your Majesty," Emma replied as she turned to the other woman, wearing her best patronizing smile. Regina scowled at Emma's use of that nickname.

"I take it you finally have the stage in an adequate condition in order for us to rehearse," the other woman said, glancing at her fellow professionals still doing their warm ups.

"Only if it meets Your Worship's expectations."

Emma swore she heard Regina growl.

"I'm not sure I like your attitude, Miss Swan," she said, her voice low. "Do I need to remind you that the Madam will be here in the afternoon to inspect our work?"

"Oh no, I'm well aware of Mommy Dearest coming in to micromanage _my_ work," Emma responded, setting Henry on the ground and quietly telling him to sit with his friends in the audience. When he seemed happily entertained by the other kids, she turned back to Regina. "Don't you worry about me, sweet pea, I'll be just fine. "

With one final shake of her head, Regina marched off to join the other dancers with an annoyed huff. Ruby joined her once more, and the both of them simply watched as Regina attempted to go about her warm up without glancing over at Emma every few seconds.

"You know, I don't think it's the best idea to get on her bad side," Ruby muttered.

"Please," Emma replied, rolling her eyes. "I was on her bad side the moment we met, and I hadn't even said a single word. God knows what I did to her, but it must have been really fucked up to get her to hate me so much." Ruby smirked as they headed offstage towards the dressing rooms. "My only saving grace seems to be Henry, and the fact that she knows I do my job."

"I don't know," Ruby started. "Your job seems to be the one thing she's constantly criticizing."

"Criticizing, yes. But threatening, no. Not once has she suggested that she, or anyone else could do better. You'd think that by now, she would have told her mother to find someone else, but it's been three months, and here I am."

"That's a good point. Though, I don't think you should rely on just that when Madam Mills is here."

Emma stopped in her tracks once more. "Jesus, why is everyone so concerned about me? The rest of you are the talent. You're the ones who should be scared. I'll be fine."

Ruby only shook her head as Emma continued down the hall and into the storage room.

"Keep telling yourself that, babe."

" _Straighten those legs! Toes pointed!"_

"How's it looking Marco?" Emma asked, coming over to her head make-up artist who was working just offstage. The older, Italian man was hunched in front of his subject, Graham, who had the role of the Nutcracker.

"Just about done," Marco said, stepping aside to reveal his work.

" _Come down in fourth position, not fifth!"_

"What do you think?" he asked, failing to hide the twinge of nervousness in his voice.

Emma's eyes widened at the sight in front of her. It was a full prosthetic mask, one that would have to – and knowing Marco, could – come off in a matter of seconds. It was the face of their Nutcracker, hard and fierce and astoundingly wooden looking. The mask was perfectly contoured to Graham's face, allowing his own natural features to stand out, while still being distinctly different from anything human.

"Wow," she said with amazement. "It looks great!"

"You're not so bad yourself, Swan," Graham replied stiffly.

"Stuff it, Woody," she smirked. "Marco, I think this is your best work yet. It's perfect."

"You really think so?"

" _Toes ladies for god's sake!"_

"Of course I do. As soon as they're done out there, we'll bring Graham on and have her approve the design."

Marco's face drained of color. "I thought _you_ were approving it?"

"I was, but while… _the_ _Madam_ is here, she has final say," Emma replied, her hand nervously coming to the back of her neck. "Don't worry, she's going to love it."

" _Enough!"_

The shout was loud enough to silence the entire room. The orchestra quieted, and every eye in the building was fixed on the woman now rising from her lone chair positioned downstage center.

"I'm not sure what has been going on during your recent rehearsals, ladies, but the amount of unprofessionalism I've seen today is… extremely disappointing. And to think you were once praised as the best company in the country. None of you are even fit to perform in front of girl scouts."

Not a word was spoken. The girls on stage – practicing for the last number of the first act – had their eyes glued to the floor, trying their hardest not to tremble. Only those not directly in front of Madam Mills' oppressive gaze saw Regina come to her mother's side.

"Mother, they've been practicing night and day – "

"Which obviously hasn't been enough," the Madam said, cutting Regina off without even a second thought. Before Regina could even open her mouth again, she was halted by her mother's furious gaze. "And I don't recall asking for your opinion."

She didn't know why she did it or what sort of demon possessed her in that moment, but before Emma knew what was happening, she was marching over to Madam Mills tugging Graham behind her.

"Madam Mills – "

"Ahh, if it isn't our amateur manager," the older woman greeted with a sneer. "Perhaps you've come to explain why this highly anticipated show is running a week and a half behind schedule? Or have you come to bother me with other useless information?"

"I just wanted your opinion on the nutcracker make-up design," Emma said, swallowing the vulgar retort that initially rose up her throat. "I thought that since you're here, you'd want to give final approval."

"Oh, the world must be coming to an end. You've finally come up with a good idea, dear."

 _Patience. Patience._

"No, no, this won't do."

Emma looked up in shock to find the Madam circling Graham like he was about to be her next meal. "The coloring is all wrong and the contours of the face and beard are garish beyond belief. Change it immediately and then show me the next mess you come up with."

Emma stood there, dumbfounded. What had easily been Marco's best design was shot down in moments by this woman without so much as a blink. All the detail and hard work, dismissed as _garish_ of all things. Who did this woman think she was?

"Off you go," Madam Mills said, waving her hand her as if she were trying to shoo a fly. Dejected, Emma led Graham back to Marco, who sat in a chair with a sad smile on his face.

"I'm sorry Marco," was all Emma could say when she got to him, unable to think of anything else but Madam Mills' callous disregard for his work.

"Don't be, Miss Emma," Marco replied sweetly. "You tried your best."

She knew that there was nothing she could do. She knew that Marco was right. She knew that no matter what, Marco's idea would have been shot down. It was completely out of her control and Marco understood that.

She just couldn't forgive herself for giving in to Madam Mills so easily.

"Goddamned ballet Nazi," Emma muttered under her breath as she collected costumes in the dressing room with Ruby. "Who the hell does she think she is, bashing Marco's hard work that way?"

"The money?" Ruby replied with an exhausted shrug.

"Oh please, the old biddies we call 'alumni' are the money and you know it. She's just been in charge for so long that people are afraid to kick her bony ass off her ancient throne."

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you this mad before," Ruby mused. "Do you see red every time you lock your eyes onto brown eyes and pursed lips?"

"I'd take Her Royal Highness over Mommy Dearest any day," Emma said, hanging up the costumes on their appropriate racks. "Regina is somewhat bearable, but Cora is a monster. It's like she takes everything special about a person and turns it into something to be ashamed of."

"You have no idea."

Ruby and Emma turned to find Regina standing in the doorway, the same serious look on her face as always, with her eyes locked on Emma.

"I need to talk to you. Privately."

Emma and Ruby exchanged nervous and surprised glances before Ruby set the costumes in her hands on a chair.

"I guess I'll be on my way then," she said, walking out of the room without so much as glancing at Regina as she passed her by.

Emma and Regina stood there for a few agonizingly slow minutes in silence, simply staring at each other. Emma wasn't sure what to think or do in this situation. She couldn't tell anything from the look on Regina's face, but she obviously came here for a reason. As the silence went on, however, even that was starting to come into question.

"Look – "

" _I'm_ going first, Miss Swan," Regina interrupted, smirking at the annoyed tilt of Emma's head at the realization that Regina had just wanted to make her squirm. "I realize that things have been rather tense around here since the Madam arrived, but I… wanted to let you know that I think you're handling it rather well."

What? What did that mean?

"Uh… thanks," Emma replied, growing more and more confused as to why the other woman was actually here. "Is this some kind of set up or something?"

"Is it really so shocking that I would just want to pay you an honest compliment?"

"Yes."

Regina's brow furrowed at Emma's nearly immediate answer. "I had a talk with my mother," she began. "I managed to convince her that Marco's design was perfectly sufficient for the show. Be sure to inform him tomorrow."

"I – yeah," Emma stuttered, her eyes wide with surprise. That was honestly the last thing she had expected to fall from those lips. Her only problem now was that she couldn't get her own to form a coherent sentence. "Yes. Awesome. That's great."

Regina rolled her eyes at Emma's bumbling, much like she had done before, but there was something else there as well. Admiration, maybe, thought for what, Emma didn't know.

"Thank you," she replied softly, thinking now of how Marco's eyes would light up tomorrow at the prospect of his art being seen. Of all people _Regina Mills_ was the last person Emma expected to be the cause of such a marvelous sight… and yet when she would deliver the news to her friend in the morning, she knew her first thought would be of Regina.

"You're welcome," the other woman replied, shaking Emma from her thoughts as she turned to leave. Before she even took two steps, she stopped and turned back to Emma.

"Henry speaks very highly of you," she said. "I don't see it… but you're obviously doing something right."

Emma couldn't help but smile.

"I want that net rigged yesterday, people! Final dress is in twenty minutes!"

 _Patience_.

This was it. December 23rd. Tonight was the night of their one and only performance, and despite everything that they had been through for the past four months, they had made it. Emma had made it. After tonight, for better or worse, it would all be over.

 _Patience_.

It was just a few more hours and she would be done dealing with these ridiculous kids. Done dealing with the incompetent lighting guys. Done dealing with Madam Mills. Done dealing with Reg –

Well, hopefully done-done when it came to that last one. She scoffed at the thought of missing Regina Mills when all of this was over. Most of their time together had been a laughing joke of a relationship. Regina didn't like her… for whatever reason… so she didn't like Regina.

But after the incident with Marco, something had shifted between them. They still argued and bickered over absolutely nothing, but Emma found that she rather enjoyed it. Arguments were never won or lost, but well placed retorts or well-timed comebacks were now rewarded with small smirks that she couldn't explain, but quite enjoyed.

They had even had a few real conversations – only when alone, of course, but real all the same. They talked about everything from the ballet, to Henry, to living in the city. The only thing that had been off limits was Regina's family, which truthfully, Emma had no problem avoiding.

She found herself liking her talks with Regina, even the ones that were not all that pleasant, and the thought of now having to say goodbye after tonight was just unsettling enough to slow her pace just a bit.

"Mommy!" came Henry's cry from behind her. She turned and kneeled and he slammed right into her, his tiny arms circling her neck. She lifted him up without hesitation, knowing that something had him really upset.

"Henry, what are you doing here?" she asked with concern. "You're supposed to be in the dressing room."

"The scary lady is yelling at Miss Regina. She was crying," Henry said.

"Alright, buddy, I'll take care of it," she replied, meeting the eyes of Archie Hopper, the conductor down in the pit who nodded with a smile. "I want you to hang right there in the pit with Mr. Hopper, okay? Don't leave his sight, do you understand?" Henry nodded solemnly, before she gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. "Good boy. I'll be right back."

She rushed backstage towards Regina's dressing room, not sure what to expect. Henry normally wasn't upset by much, so something that had him running for his mother had to be pretty serious.

The sound of a raised voice reached her as she rounded the last corner and she had no doubt about who it was.

"Honestly, Regina, I do not understand why you choose now of all days to have a breakdown." The doorway came into Emma's view and she could see Madam Mills standing before Regina who had tears streaming down her face. "We've been over this time and time again, and quite honestly I am growing quite tired of having to repeat myself."

"What's going on in here?" Emma said, finally entering and interrupting the Madam.

"Nothing that concerns you, Miss Swan," the older woman snapped, obviously trying to scare her off.

"If it concerns my show's lead role, I think I'm well within my rights to say that it _does_ concern me," came Emma's retort.

" _Your_ show?"

"Yes, _my_ show."

The Madam tilted her head in antagonizing amusement at Emma's statement and let out a small chuckle. "You are an over-paid stage hand who wouldn't know actual talent if it slapped you across the face." She walked up to Emma until they were face to face. Emma could practically see the rage behind the older woman's eyes, and it might have frightened her at one point if she wasn't so done with this whole ordeal.

"This is _my_ show, Miss Swan. _My_ girls are the ones performing in it, and if you can't deal with that fact, then I think it's time you left." Emma smirked at the thought. Madam Mills would have to drag her cold body out of the building to get her to leave at this point. "And take that annoying brat you call a son with you."

Now, Emma really did see red.

"Look lady, let's get one thing straight, alright?" Emma snarled, now taking steps towards the other woman, forcing her to back up. "Rule number one; don't you _ever_ talk that way about my son again. Rule number two; until this production is over, everyone who walks out on that stage is _my_ responsibility, and that includes your daughter. If anyone or anything threatens one of my performers in anyway, I will do whatever is necessary to take care of the problem."

"Are you _threatening_ me, Miss Swan?"

"Oh no, I'm making you a _promise_. Either you walk out of this dressing room right now and never come back here again, or I'll have you removed from the building, and banned from seeing tonight's performance."

"How dare – "

"If you want to see this production go well, then its players have to be at their best," Emma continued, now standing beside Regina. "Now, I don't know what's going on between you and your daughter, but I'm certain that whatever it is can wait until after tonight. Am I wrong?"

"You will regret this, Miss Swan," Madam Mills answered after a moment. Emma only smirked in response, no longer afraid of reproach from the other woman. If she wanted to write a bad reference, let her. It was worth it to give the Madam a taste of her own medicine.

A sniffle drew her attention to Regina, wiping her eyes beside her. "You alright?" Emma asked, unconsciously reaching to wipe a tear away. To her surprise, Regina let her, but the moment died in the next second when someone came in the room to grab some eyeliner.

"I'm fine," Regina muttered, turning away from Emma and towards the mirror to begin cleaning up her face. Emma's eyes drifted to the ground, awkwardly mourning the strange moment they just shared before glancing at her watch.

"Final run-through starts in ten," she said before turning to leave.

"Congratulations, Miss Swan," Regina said with a soft smile moments after the last curtain fell.

"Congrats yourself," Emma beamed.

It was over. They had made it through the day, through the run-through, and then through the performance. They had received a standing ovation for a solid ten minutes before they had to close the curtain. It was by far the company's best performance of the ballet to date, and as many in the cast already pointed out, it was all because of Emma.

Henry bounded over to them in record time, but instead of Emma's arms, he headed straight for Regina. "Miss Regina, did we do good?" he asked, looking up at her with his best puppy dog eyes.

"You most certainly did," Regina said, ruffling his hair as if she'd always done that. "But between you an me, _you_ were definitely the cutest little mouse."

Henry blushed and hugged her before his friends and fellow mice came by and grabbed him, leaving Emma and Regina together in the crowd.

"I don't see the Madam around anywhere," Emma said, curious as to what the older woman would have to say about their success.

"That's not surprising," Regina said softly. "After you talked to her this afternoon, she was probably praying for it to be a disaster. She's probably quite upset that it wasn't."

"Sounds like something she would do," Emma smirked. Regina's own lips twitched in response, but before she got to say anymore, Ruby shouted over at them.

"Regina, Ems, we're headed to the cast party! You coming along?"

"Nah, I got a kid to feed," Emma smiled with a wave.

"I'll save you some cake. What about you, Regina?"

"I'll pass, but thank you."

As Ruby disappeared into the departing crowd, Emma and Regina started walking towards the dressing rooms where the little kids and their parents would be, removing costumes and make-up.

"Got a date?" Emma asked with a smile.

"Just not a big party fan."

"How about a small party then? You, me, and Henry and some Chinese take-out? My treat."

She wasn't sure what made her ask, but all of a sudden her thoughts about not seeing Regina again after this made her nervous and desperate to make their time together last just a little bit longer. Was it forward? Sure. But subtly wasn't really Emma's thing anyway.

"As charming as ever," Regina said, stopping in shock and pleasant surprise at the request.

Emma could see the smile struggling to remain hidden on Regina's face, and she couldn't help but let out one of her own. "I'm not hearing a 'no…'"

"You're not hearing a 'yes' either."

Without another word, Regina continued to walk, leaving Emma in the hallway for a few moments before Emma had the sense to catch up to her. Emma wasn't sure what had just happened. Had she just been rejected? Was Regina going to come over or was she just messing around? Did she think that _Emma_ was joking? That this was some kind of prank?

When they came to Regina's door, the brunette turned and surprised Emma with a smirk.

"I prefer Indian take-out."

Emma's smile was enormous.

"I can do that."

That night was one of the best Emma could remember having in a long time.

After Regina was finished getting out of her costume, she met Emma and Henry in the lobby where they caught a cab back to Emma's apartment. She thanked God that she had kept the place relatively clean, already feeling plenty embarrassed by the state of the place as it was. Regina didn't seem to mind, however, or if she did, she kept it to herself.

The three scarfed down their food while talking animatedly about the show and how much fun they (Henry) had being on stage. Once they were finished with that, Henry insisted they watch a movie all together on the couch. They settled on Meet the Robinsons, which Regina had never seen, and sat enraptured until the credits rolled.

By then is was well past Henry's bedtime, so Emma got him changed and his teeth brushed before tucking him in and saying goodnight. Emma and Regina stayed up for a good couple of hours after cracking open a bottle of wine and just talked.

It took a while, but Regina finally reveled that when she had been crying earlier, it was because she was remembering the anniversary of her father's death, and her mother had said something particularly insensitive about him. She explained that they hadn't had the best marriage, and that made things hard, but her father had always found a way to make her feel okay.

After that, Emma talked about growing up in the foster system, and having an unplanned kid at the tender age of eighteen. She wasn't sure how it happened, but she felt a mutual bond being formed over each other's hardships and trials. New respect was found within each other, and that nagging feeling that she didn't want this to end returned with a vengeance.

Eventually, they fell asleep on opposite ends of the couch, too exhausted to continue conversation, no matter how stimulating.

In the morning, Regina had already left by the time Emma woke up, and the shock of that had Emma reaching for her phone.

"What am I doing here, Miss Swan?"

Emma smiled from her spot on the stage. "We made all that progress last night and you're still going to call me 'Miss Swan?'"

"Why am I here, _Emma_?" Regina asked, her own smile showing as she walked the aisle towards the waiting blonde.

"Because technically, we still have the theater for today, and I wanted to ask you something."

"On stage?"

"A stage can be a powerful thing," Emma said, spreading her arms wide. "Ever since I got into the business, I've been more comfortable up here then I've ever been down there. I like having my own hand in the story, rather then simply sitting there having it fed to me."

"You _do_ like sticking your nose into things, that's true," Regina quipped.

" _And_ it just so happens to be the perfect place for the particular question that I have for you."

"And what question is that?"

"Well, I've been thinking for a while that you and I have gotten along really well in the past couple of weeks," Emma started, nervously paceing back and forth across the stage. "We bonded over the show and Henry and your bat-shit-crazy mother, and I've come to realize that you're not as much of a hard ass as you seem."

Regina let out a soft chuckle. "You have a way with words, truly."

"I'm really scared right now, but I keep getting this feeling that if I don't ask right now, I'll miss my shot, so here goes. Regina, will you go on a date with me?"

The silence in the massive room was deafening. Emma wasn't even sure for a moment if she actually asked the question out loud and not just screamed it in her head.

"What?"

"A date," Emma said with a none-too-subtle breath of relief. "You know, food, maybe a movie or something. I mean, we don't _have_ to do that, I just kinda wanted to spend time with you. Seeing as _Mommy_ didn't really approve of me, I think I can safely say that I'll never work with the company again. I didn't want this to be the last time I saw you."

Another silence.

"Why here, of all places?"

"I told you, the stage is special. Besides, this is where we first met. I thought it was kind of poetic."

"You would," Regina said with a smile. Smiles were good, but direct answers were better. And so far, Emma hadn't received anything clo -

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll go on a date with you."

Emma's eyes widened. "You will?"

"On one condition."

She nodded. Anything. "Name it."

"No fancy restaurants. No Broadway or ballet. Something simple."

"What about a picnic?"

"In this weather?"

"What about Christmas dinner tomorrow?"

She could see the shock on Regina's face, even from up on stage. "You'd… want me over for Christmas?"

Emma smiled and hopped down into the pit. "It's usually just Henry and I," she said, jogging towards Regina. "I think he'd really like the extra company. I know I would. You wouldn't even have to come just for dinner." She was directly in front of Regina now, sharing the same breath. "You could come in the morning or something. To open presents with us."

"I already gave Henry his present."

"We can rewrap it. I promise he'll be very surprised."

"I have no gift for you," Regina laughed.

"Say you'll come over and I'm good."

"What time?"

"Nine, and not a minute over, because keeping Henry away from the presents for even _that_ long will be a challenge."

Regina considered it for a moment and then nodded. "I'll be there." And with that, she turned on her heal to leave, but almost immediately turned right back around to face Emma once again. "Just one more thing before I go."

And before she could even process what was happening, Regina grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and kissed her.

Emma didn't even have time to close her eyes before Regina pulled away.

"Just something to hold you over until tomorrow."

And with her signature smirk, she was gone.


End file.
